


Boys Like Her

by melannen



Category: Girls Like Me (Summertime) - Coyote Grace (Song)
Genre: F/F, Genderplay, Queer Themes, Strap-Ons, Yuletide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-21
Updated: 2012-12-21
Packaged: 2017-11-21 23:06:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/603073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melannen/pseuds/melannen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I never thought I'd have reason to thank those old boys for their prying questions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Boys Like Her

**Author's Note:**

  * For [calvinahobbes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/calvinahobbes/gifts).



Hell, we knew we weren't picking the easiest row to hoe when we decided to stay in our hometown even after the baby was born, but we didn't have nearly the trouble some folks might've been afraid we might, not once everyone got used to seeing us around as a family.

It took 'em awhile to get used to us, though, even though they'd known us since we were born. And there are the questions, still. Some of 'em are couched in false concern, like they imagine that if they make us think it through just the right way, we'll change our minds, and some of 'em just show that the people asking 'em don't know _anything_. Some of 'em are sincerely curious, and when I'm not in a hurry - and let's be honest, when was I ever in a hurry? - I sometimes like answering those. And then there's the most annoying question of all, which we pretty much only get asked by a certain type of good ol' boy: "Which one of you's the man, and which one of you's the woman?"

Now, we may live in the country, but that doesn't mean we're cut off from everybody else who's thought about this, and I know what I'm supposed to say to that - that it doesn't matter, that a relationship doesn't have to have someone who's the man, and someone who's the woman, and everybody fits into their little roles.

But hell with that.

I like wearing floaty sundresses, and she likes wearing sturdy overalls, and she climbs the pear trees and I do the canning, and I hang the laundry and she splits the firewood, and I carried the baby and she changes the diapers, and she calls me her darling girl and I call her my man. And so what if it gets me hot when she comes over all gruff and macho, or it gets her hot when I curl my hair and leave lipstick-marks all over her breasts? That's who we are, and we don't need to defend it in front of anybody, country people or city people either.

But when they ask the question, that isn't what they're asking, because anybody who looks at us can see _that_. What they're thinking about when they ask that is something that's nobody's business but ours, thank you.

I hate it, though. I hate that they think they know things about us, about what we do in our own private bedroom (and the less private bed of her pickup truck, and sometimes, if we get carried away, right out under the stars, but that still isn't any of their business.) It bothered her, too, though I didn't realize it until one night when the baby was finally down and we were getting hot and heavy and she handed me the strap-on.

This was kind of a surprise, because on the days we even bothered with something that fancy, it was always her who wore it - she's not that fond of things inside her, and I goddamn love it. Hell, I never said the boys were wrong about that part either, just that I didn't like them thinking they had the right to ask. But that night she strapped it on me - had to let out the straps a couple inches on each side - and said "What the hell, let's prove 'em all wrong for once."

And by God, I'd never have thought of trying it that way, left to myself - I'd never figured out what was supposed to be so great about it, made it worth doing - but whoo-ee, seeing her kneeling there, and just _wanting_ it so much, it flipped some sort of a switch and we both ended up going off like a whole pile of shotgun shells at once.

I probably ought to thank the guys, next time I'm around and they start asking personal questions, but hell, they wouldn't give a damn either way. I think instead, next time, I'll answer 'em, "She must be the man, because I've never known any woman who loved sucking cock quite that much."

It won't shut 'em up for long, but it'll be worth it anyway.


End file.
